Masquerade
by The Real F'n Scorp
Summary: <html><head></head>When he asked her why she was allowing him to leave, her response was a simple one: "Because, Mr. Queen, you've reminded me that not every man in a mask means to harm me." An extended (companion) scene for Blind Loyalty. Written as part of the RLt's 2014 Fall Event (The Halloween Collaboration): Witches and Goblins and Ghosts, Oh My! Season 2 AU.</html>
1. The Ball

**A/N: **Hello m'dears and welcome!

This piece is an extended (companion) scene from my other story, **Blind Loyalty **that I have written as part of the RLt's 2014 Fall Event (The Halloween Collaboration): Witches and Goblins and Ghosts, Oh My!

Please, everyone, if you like this piece, fav/follow! Enjoy!

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><p>Oh, she so wanted to make him proud.<p>

However, the luxury penthouse they occupied on the top floor of a high rise in one of Starling's ritzy uptown neighborhoods was filled almost to the rafters with masked figures, many of whom Sienna had never met. Most, she assumed, were members of Starling's rich and powerful sect. They were the people that Slade's puppet, Sebastian Blood (whom Sienna considered to be no better than a slimy worm), needed to court in order to secure his position as the city's next mayor.

To the majority of these faceless people, Slade Wilson was nothing more than a dashing, charming businessman. To the men, Slade was an articulate and sophisticated man they wanted to befriend, to do business with. Ah, but to the women, though? To the women he was this animalistic enigma they wanted to figure out, and tame. So what if he stood accused of kidnapping Thea Queen? In their minds, if the charges had held any _serious_ merit, well, he'd clearly still be behind bars. Besides, a good many of them had skeletons in their own closets. It wasn't like they could castigate Slade for what to them would only amount to a _small_ lapse in judgment.

To those in his employ, however, he was the man behind what was an elaborate revenge plot. He was the one giving the orders, opening the doors, setting the wheels of what he planned into motion. Even with his private war against Oliver Queen in full swing, there was a need to maintain appearances. That was why Slade had requested she plan this Ball. The image that he projected to the world kept it from discovering just what he had planned for Starling's prodigal son. She didn't know what had happened to turn Mr. Queen and Slade into enemies. It wasn't a topic that Slade openly discussed and she was far too much of a coward to actually question him about it. _But I will ask him just as soon as things settle down again_, she promised herself.

Sienna swallowed a sigh as she searched the room for her one-eyed bandit. The masquerade was barely getting underway and yet she could see that a great many of the guests her... _Slade_, she corrected quickly. She wasn't _quite_ ready to call Slade Wilson her _boyfriend_, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. Not that they weren't involved as a couple, because it was more than obvious to her (and everyone else) that they were. And it wasn't because she questioned her role in Slade's life. She was quite aware that to him, as well as to the world at large, she was the Queen of his vast empire.

Even if she didn't _always_ feel like she was Mistress of his Keep.

Most of the guests, she saw as she slowly glanced around, were congregated in small clusters at the edges of the makeshift dance floor. A small crowd was twirling to Tchaikovsky's _Swan Lake, Op, 20 (Lake In the Moonlight)_, their brightly colored masks almost as extravagant as the jewels and costumes they were wearing. People had already been lining up in the dining room in order to partake of the refreshments being laid out when she'd passed a few minutes ago. A quick glance showed her that even more were taking advantage of the full service bar that had been set up out on the balcony.

She was surrounded by a cornucopia of people.

_Damnation_, she thought as she reached up to finger the huge blood red stone nestled between her breasts. _There are more people here than I anticipated there'd be_. She was half tempted to just scurry back to the relative safety of her private bedroom suite and say the hell with the Ball. Slade knew she still got anxious in crowds, he'd understand why she couldn't attend. _Oh, but I so want to make him proud_.

No, what she _really_ wanted was for Slade to suddenly appear at her side, tuck her hand into the crook of his arm and escort her into the ballroom. Sienna pushed that fanciful thought aside. She had to do this without her sinfully handsome pirate to hold onto. Her anxiety was not something she could easily put aside. Not when the familiar bands of panic were already starting to wrap themselves around her chest and cinch tight. She chewed on her bottom lip, struggling to work up the courage necessary to take the final steps that would lead her into the sea of masked strangers.

Almost as if he'd been conjured up by some sort of magic spell, Slade appeared at her side, a devastating smile curving his full lips. "Hello, little one."

"Slade." The stark relief she heard in her voice sickened her. Still… "I'm so glad you're here."

"I have always been there when you have needed me, have I not?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Of course you have been."

"Then you knew I would be here now."

She saw his eye sweep her then, appreciation and something darker, hungrier burning in its depth that absolutely stole what little breath she was managing to draw in. The primal hunger shimmering in that obsidian depth left her knees wobbly, her mouth dry and her pulse bucking more than a wild Mustang.

"You look beautiful, love."

Sienna shivered as her belly coiled into those achingly hot knots it always did whenever he spoke in that low, throaty baritone. "Considering how _you_ chose my costume?" Her lips curled delicately at the corners. "I would hope that you are pleased with how it turned out."

"I am more than pleased."

Sienna had to admit that she was pleased with how her costumed had turned out. At first she'd been flabbergasted when he'd presented her with the mask and gown that afternoon, not understanding the reasoning behind his choice in costume at all. The dress had flowed over his arm in a waterfall of sequins and beads the color of fire and ice. Once she'd dressed, though, she'd understood exactly why Slade had chosen this particular costume for her. The woman looking back at her in the full length mirror had glowed with heat and pulsated with coldness. She was the fire Maiden and the ice Queen.

And both sides of her were _his_.

Same as both sides of this man were hers. She accepted that Slade was both mercenary and liberator. _It's why I chose for him to dress as a pirate tonight_, she thought, surreptitiously studying him. Slade's profile wasn't perfect. There were streaks of silver in his dark hair and goatee. His nose was straight, the nostrils slightly flared, his swarthy face smooth except for a few faint lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He was a man who could smile cruelly, or sensually. He hadn't shaved that evening, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw and over those angular cheeks turned what was already an arresting face into something edgy. Powerful. _Beautiful_.

She opened her mouth, intending to commend him on at least adhering to the costume part of the masquerade when a man dressed as the Phantom from the _Phantom of the Opera_ shoved by her. Sienna jumped and let out a tiny squeak. Slade snagged her hand and drew her towards him.

"Relax, love."

"There are a lot more people here than I'd anticipated," she finally said once her heart left her throat. "I didn't think there would be so many who'd show up at once. I'm not sure I..." her voice trailed off into a sigh full of both nerves and frustration. _I didn't use to be this much of a coward_, she thought bitterly. _I didn't use to be afraid of walking into a room full of masked strangers_.

No, once upon a time Sienna had been one of Gotham's reigning socialites. That woman wouldn't have been afraid to make a grand entrance (the grander the better, in fact) at this Masquerade Ball. That woman used to go to parties like this all the time. That woman had never once feared that someone was lurking in the shadows who could mean her harm. That woman wouldn't look at a dizzying array of masked faces and wonder if one of them meant to sell her on the black market.

No, that woman would have just boldly sashayed into the ballroom with a mysterious smile curving her glossy lips. That woman would have boldly engaged these strangers (men as well as women) in conversation without feeling as if she was going to throw up the moment she opened her mouth. That woman would have been flirtatious, playful, and fearless. She'd have melted against this man and lifted her mouth for his kiss, uncaring about who was watching or might have disapproved of such a wanton display.

Ah, but that woman had been kidnapped while leaving a club in Miami a little over two years ago. That woman's whole world, as well as everything in it, had come screeching to a halt the second three masked men grabbed her and hustled her, kicking and screaming into a van. That woman had been drugged, molested, tormented before almost being sold to a group of masked figures. That woman who'd once been known as Gotham's Ice Princess, ceased to exist.

The first month of her ordeal had been a blur. Sienna had been kept in a suspended state of animation- neither alive, nor dead. Her first semi-clear memory was waking up in that underground auction house in St. Petersburg just moments before they'd interjected her with god knew what and pushed her out onto a stage. The memories rose up, images superimposing themselves over sights and smells. Reality blurred and time ticked to a crawl as she again saw herself stumbling around amidst a sea of blank faces. Her stomach began to coil into greasy knots and her mouth filled with saliva. She knew she was going to be sick if she didn't get the hell out of there and fast. God, she was a damned fool for thinking she could handle attending this Ball.

"Sienna?" she heard Slade saying in a distorted voice. "Can you hear me, love?"

Could she enter that ballroom, he meant. Her answer to that...

"I don't think I can do this, Slade," she croaked out around the ball lodged in her throat. "I'm sorry..."

"Look at me," Slade's husky timbre rolled over her hypersensitive senses, supercharging them even more than they already were. Only when she focused her eyes upon his did he ask, "What are you afraid will happen if you walk into that ballroom?"

She was panting with the effort to not lose the contents of her stomach. "Right now? My greatest fear is that I will embarrass you by throwing up all over you."

His face softened and he reached up to cup her cheek in the palm of his hand. "You are letting your panic defeat you, love. And what have I told you about letting your panic rule you?"

Sienna closed her eyes and turned her face into his palm, absorbing the wondrous feeling of his rough skin upon hers. The sensation was heady, intoxicating. The ugly things shouting at her scurried to the back of her mind with low, moist hisses.

"Don't let it?" she finally managed to rasp.

He nodded. "So what should you do about it?"

A voice in the back of her head whispered a logical response to that question: _run like hell_. But her automatic mouth had her reply, "Remind myself that I am with you and that you will never allow anybody to hurt me."

"And?"

"And..." a pause. "I don't think I can do this, Slade," she whimpered. "I'm sorry... I just don't think I am ready for something like this Masquerade Ball."

"Sienna..." he began, but she continued talking, unable to shut up now that she'd spilled her humiliating secret.

"I thought I could do this. I wanted to do this. I fully intended to make you proud by walking into that ballroom all by myself..." She sent him a look full of abject misery. "But there are just way too many people here."

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you, love," he murmured in that tone which always seemed to slide beneath the edge of her panic and scare away the demons laughing and hurling obscenities at her. "You know that I'd stop them long before they managed to touch you."

"Promise?"

His thumb lightly traced her bottom lip. "I promise."

Promises, Sienna had come to learn, were things that carried special meaning with Slade Wilson. They were not guarantees that he made recklessly, nor that he treated lightly. She recalled how the first promise he'd ever made to her was about how he would "never allow" her "to be hurt again."

"_I will protect you, little one," he crooned to her in a silky smooth timbre that made her belly do jumping jacks even while her head swam in its drug induced haze. "And I will keep you safe. I promise_."

It was a promise he'd yet to break in the months they'd been together.

The live band she'd hired began playing _Grim, Grinning Ghosts_. Sienna felt it an appropriate choice considering the innumerable ghosts surrounding them. Slade led her into a dance moments before one of his masked goons appeared from out of nowhere to dispel the magical lull that had slowly been overtaking them.

"What is it?" he growled at them.

"There is a... situation," the man intoned slowly. "What would you like us to do?"

"Handle it."

The man visibly flinched at the force of those words. "But sir," he stuttered. "It's Oliver Queen. He's been spotted."

Feral joy burned from Slade's eye, and his face no longer was human. "Has he now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then," Slade rumbled now in a voice that sent shivers dancing along Sienna's spine. "Tell your men to be ready."

"Yes, sir."

The man melted back into the shadows then.

"Slade," Sienna began but he silenced her by resting his fingers against her trembling lips.

"Go back to our room and wait for me, love."

Realizing that it was futile to argue with him, she nodded. "Yes, of course."


	2. Masked Vigilante

**A/N: **Hello again m'dears!

Please, everyone, if you like this piece, fav/follow! Enjoy!

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><p>Slade left her as the band began playing <em>Dance Macabre<em>. With a sigh, Sienna started to make her way off the floor, doing her best to ignore the masked faces crowding in on her as they drew abreast of her. A hand clutched at her arm, detaining her. Her shriek died in her throat when she heard a familiar voice in her ear.

"Stay, and dance with me, Miss James. _Please_."

Sienna went cold to the marrow.

_What are you doing here_? she silently beseeched the man at her back. _Don't you know what Slade will do if he finds you here_?

"Dance with me," he urged her again in a low, charged whisper. "Before people begin to notice how we are standing here in the middle of the floor."

Sweat popped out, cold and clammy, over her skin. It was taking every ounce of her willpower to not turn tail and run. Or scream at the top of her lungs for Slade or one of his minions. Something stopped her from calling out, though. Sienna figured it was because of the fight that would break out once he saw his sworn enemy with her. But a part of her, a dark and desperate part, told her that that was a lie. A voice she recognized as _That Woman's_ whispered to her that she didn't call for Slade because "she didn't want to see Oliver Queen hurt."

"Miss James, please," Oliver entreated in that rich tone he'd used the night she met him in his club, _Verdant_. "Dance with me."

"No..." she jumped when a couple dressed as Mr. and Mrs. Incredible swung by them. The bands returned, clenching tight. More people moved around them and she shuddered. Oliver heard her breath rattling out from between her teeth because he settled one of his large hands on her back and rubbed it in those same slow, soothings circles her brother Jonathan would whenever she'd be freaking out about midterms, finals, term papers and failing out of school because she couldn't keep up with all her studies.

"Easy," he murmured. "They are not going to hurt you." Then he added in a voice ripe with understanding and sympathy, "I'm not here to hurt you. Now, please, dance with me, Miss James."

"No," she said once she'd collected herself. "No, I wo-won't dance with yo-you." She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at him, hissed, "And _you_ shouldn't even be here. Have you lost what sense your mother gave you? Coming into Slade's home? Approaching me? Stupid!"

"Dance with me and I will explain why I am here."

"No."

Yet even as she (again) told him no, she allowed him to turn her, to lead her into a slow waltz. After a few tense seconds she finally found the courage to lift her head to look at him. A forest green mask and a hood with the center shaped to resemble an eagle's beak concealed the majority of his features from view, but there was no mistaking it was Oliver Queen looking at her.

"Wh-what are you do-doing here?" she stammered, feeling a scorching heat creeping up into her cheeks. "Do-don't you know how dangerous it is for you to be here?"

"I needed to talk with you," he replied. "And this was the only way that I thought I might be able to get near you without Slade noticing."

"Me?" she squeaked. "Why do you need to talk with me?"

"I want to help you, Miss James."

"Help me?" She frowned her confusion. "Help me do what?"

"Leave Slade Wilson."

Sienna reared back as if he'd slapped her. She was about to open her mouth and scream, but Oliver, seeing her intention, swung her out onto the small balcony that was between the living room and Slade's office. Sienna pulled away instantly, and rounded on him, fire singing in her veins and blazing from her eyes.

"How dare you!" she hissed at him. "Who do you think you are?"

"Right now?" Oliver didn't growl it. He just sounded exhausted. "A friend."

Sienna felt a stirring of sympathy for him, but quickly slapped it away. "Right," she scoffed. "And why should I trust you, Mr. Queen?"

"Miss James," he began saying. "I realize you have no reason whatsoever to trust me..."

"I don't."

"However," he continued on a long breath. "My intention tonight is merely to offer you a way out."

"A way out of what," she gritted. "Exactly what are you implying here, Mr. Queen?"

"I want to offer you a way out of this prison that Slade has locked you away in."

"Look around you, Mr. Queen," Sienna's voice dripped acidic honey. "Does it look like I am a prisoner of this house? No. What I am is the Queen of this domicile."

"Look, Miss James, I know you think that you're safe with Slade..."

"I _am_ safe with Slade," she stated firmly.

"-but you're not."

Sienna fisted her hands and planted them upon her hips before demanding, "And why is it that you _think_ I am not safe with Slade, Mr. Queen?"

Oliver went to settle his hands upon her shoulders but Sienna scurried out of his reach. He dropped his hands to his sides, and stood there looking at her. What little of his face she could see showed her a man who genuinely believed he'd come to rescue her. The earnestness in his eyes, upon his face showed her his intentions were honorable ones. _Misguided though those intentions may be_, she thought. Sienna took a moment to study him. Oliver was a tall man, a few inches taller than Slade, in fact, with a lean, disciplined physique that was well-suited for his career as Starling's Vigilante. The long cape he wore draped over and around his left arm and shoulder billowed around him in the warm breeze blowing. That he'd chosen to come dressed as the Renaissance Assassin, Ezio Auditore da Firenze was not lost upon Sienna.

Nor was the frustration that oozed off him in waves.

"Slade is not the man you think he is," he told her. "He's a..."

"Mercenary?" she supplied for him. "Yes, I know."

"He's a murderer."

"Oh, like your own ledger has no red in it?" She snorted even as he swore, long and foully. "I know you have taken lives, Mr. Queen. Some," she pointed out with a small sniff, "while the person is living under the guise of a _hero_."

He took a step towards her. "I killed men who hurt a lot of innocent people. And," he added, his voice dropping an octave, "unlike Slade, I regret each life that I have taken."

"So does he."

"Slade Wilson regrets _nothing_."

"Oh, Mr. Queen," she said sadly. "Slade regrets _many_ things." She paused, sighed. "A regret is what I feel drives his vengeance against you, in fact."

"That is why you should leave him, Miss James."

Oliver shifted close enough that she caught a whiff of his cologne. The spicy, musky scent reminded her of another man, a good man. One who was just as broken and angry as Oliver Queen. _And just as rich as well_.

"Pray tell, why should I leave him, Mr. Queen?"

"You could be hurt because of his vendetta against me," she heard him say. "And I don't want to see _you_ get hurt because of it."

She turned away to look out over the glittering skyline of the city. "I understand what you are trying to do... and I appreciate it." She glanced at him from over her shoulder. "Truly I do. But I'm not leaving him."

"Why?" Impatience sang in his voice, was stamped upon his face. "Why won't you leave him?"

"Because he needs me." At his scoff she turned to look at him, her brow puckered with her disapproval. "Scoff if you want, but it is the truth. Slade Wilson needs me. And," she continued, her voice dropping to a low, near conspiratorial tone, "I need him."

The breath that Oliver released stirred the waterfall of curls gathered at her crown. That he didn't understand, that he couldn't see, that he refused to believe that a strong man like her cantankerous pirate could have need of anybody was clear. She felt his fingers brush her wrist and went still as stone. Her breath hitched as she waited, frazzled nerves tensing in readiness of his taking her hand in his. Oliver must have sensed her unease because he retreated with only a faint whisper of sound to show his sympathy and apology.

Sienna opened her mouth to say something, but whatever she might have said was cut short by a commotion in the ballroom. A quick glance showed her both a brawl had erupted between two men dressed as Batman and Robin. Masked goons instantly broke it up, nimbly ejecting the offenders from the apartment. The disruption the fight had caused the other guests was a palpable and tangible feeling upon the air. As the Queen of this domicile, Sienna knew it was her responsibility to restore order and see that the Ball got back underway.

"I," she said apologetically. "Must go and see to Slade's guests."

"Miss James..." Oliver began but Sienna interrupted him.

"Go, Mr. Queen. Go, now, before I change my mind and call for either Slade's men, or Slade himself."

Oliver went to set a hand upon her shoulder and Sienna let him even though the effort to stand still cost her dearly. "Come with me. _Please_."

"No."

Short, succulent and sweet. His fingers tightened reflexively upon her shoulder, but not hard enough to cause her any discomfort. Frustration and something else, something darker and that Sienna couldn't identify snapped in his voice when he said, "He will never forgive you for letting me leave."

"When I tell him why I let you leave, he will understand. And he will forgive me for my one indiscretion."

Only silently did she add, _I hope_.

Through the flood of annoyance, the dark desire to protect, he struggled to understand. She saw the flicker of uncertainty, the multitude of questions he wanted to ask but knew he couldn't because there was no time for multiple questions. He finally settled on the one bothering him the most.

"Why _are_ you letting me leave, Miss James?"

"Because, Mr. Queen, you've reminded me that not every man in a mask means to harm me."

She saw understanding dawn in his eyes, upon his face. She reached up to set a hand upon the one on her shoulder. Her fingers trembled around his, the only outward sign of how nervous she was. It had been two years since she'd touched any man besides Slade. Two years since she'd been tempted to trust any man other than her moody bandit. It was a... _liberating_ feeling. It was almost as if a great weight had been lifted off her heart. Giving her that release was the sole reason for why she urged him to take his.

"Go, Mr. Queen. And," she stated in a soft, but firm voice, "don't come here again. I may not allow you to leave the next time."

Sienna turned then, walked back into the penthouse. She could feel Oliver's eyes upon her, and glanced back, once. Their eyes met. Held. Shared secrets. Then she smiled quietly, moved into the sea of masked people. And was gone.


End file.
